


Dinner and a Show

by raininshadows



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raininshadows/pseuds/raininshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron takes Ratchet on a date. Not actually a date, of course. Just a way to show his gratitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner and a Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/gifts).



> Happy Ship Swap! I hope you enjoy this fic.

“What do you think, Doctor?” Megatron asked Ratchet as they settled into their seats. After Ratchet had saved the life of a high-ranking Decepticon, Megatron had insisted on “demonstrating his gratitude” somehow. This had apparently meant taking Ratchet to one of the more refined gladiator arenas, which wasn’t really his idea of a good time but was definitely better than some of the alternatives, and then probably for dinner afterwards, if he’d understood that conversation correctly. 

“Of what?” Ratchet asked, turning to look at him. “We haven’t seen anything yet.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a bad idea to be snarky with Megatron, rising star of the Decepticons, but he ignored it. It wasn’t like his personality was ever well hidden; Megatron had known what he was getting into when he first wanted to spend time with Ratchet. He looked around the arena. It was very full today. Presumably one or another of the bots fighting had a large fanbase. The higher class of arenas tended to attract fans who wanted to be able to follow a particular competitor for longer, because they were strictly “fight to first shed energon”, or at worst “fight until incapacitation”; the underground arenas, which allowed fights to the death, tended more towards an audience that wanted to see gore. Rumor had it that Megatron patronized both kinds. 

“Our time together so far,” Megatron said. “Hopefully I’ve not bored you that badly.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. It was oddly charming. 

Ratchet reflexively smiled back. “No.” He looked back down at the arena. Megatron had gotten them really excellent seats - they were just high enough to be able to see the entire floor while still close to the edge of the ring. He admittedly didn’t pay much attention to anything involving gladiatorial combat except when someone involved wound up in his emergency department, but these seats could not have come cheap. 

Suddenly the screens around the arena, which had been cycling through a series of advertisements, changed to show today’s matchup: Stormbreaker, who appeared to be a teal and gray Seeker, versus Grenade, a red and green truck who must have chosen his paint colors in the dark. “Hello, Cybertronians!” the announcer declared bombastically. “And welcome to the fourth match of the Heptaneon Cup!” The crowd screamed incomprehensibly, nearly drowning out his introduction of the competitors and explanation that this match would last until one of the fighters couldn’t continue. 

Stormbreaker entered in a spiraling display of aerial skill; Grenade simply walked out into the arena and smiled confidently up at the roaring crowd. Once Stormbreaker landed, a timer began counting down for the match to start. As the bell sounded, Stormbreaker transformed and jumped into the air; Grenade transformed his arm into a small but recognizable anti-aircraft weapon and started shooting, apparently aiming to puncture one of his opponent’s wings. While Stormbreaker responded with his own fire, within a few minutes, Grenade was successful in forcing him to land. The crowd screamed again. 

Megatron wrapped a large arm firmly around Ratchet as Stormbreaker’s wings shifted up to become blades, projecting from his forearms. He swiped at Grenade, who managed to duck back and pulled his blaster up to shoot at him again. 

Ratchet’s attention had been largely redirected to Megatron’s arm around him. It was warm, and Megatron’s systems hummed with an intent fascination underlying the veneer of calm. Ratchet wasn’t sure what that fascination was with - the match, or him. 

Then Stormbreaker vaulted over Grenade’s head, slashing at his throat along the way, and it was hard to pay attention to anything else. The fight continued, varying in intensity but always tense. Any moment might be the one that ended everything. 

Finally, Stormbreaker managed to dig his wing-blades into Grenade’s torso on his way past. Energon gushed freely from the wound, and Grenade collapsed to his knees. 

The single knell of the bell that indicated a winner was quickly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Stormbreaker, his wing-blades dripping with Grenade’s energon and plating flared as wide as possible to let him cool down from the fight, smiled gleefully. After a few seconds of letting the Seeker bask in his victory, various arena staff swarmed the field and the two competitors. Grenade spat something at Stormbreaker, along with some of his own energon, as the medical team pulled him in one direction and a group of expensively-polished Cybertronians escorted Stormbreaker in another. 

As soon as the arena emptied, leaving only a metallic floor coated in bright pink energon, a spell over the audience seemed to be broken. The silence punctuated by screaming applause that the match had had was replaced by the sound of several hundred bots beginning conversations with their companions and seatmates. 

“Let’s wait,” Megatron said firmly, tightening his hold on Ratchet. “The crowds will clear out soon enough.” 

Ratchet didn’t bother responding. 

Once the crowds were gone, they made their way to the restaurant Megatron had chosen, which was most of the way up one of the taller skyscrapers. Ratchet had been there before occasionally, mostly when someone was trying to impress him. This was definitely a case of that. 

They ended up at a quiet table at one of the windows, next to a gorgeous view of Cybertron lit up. Meals came quickly. 

“Are you enjoying your energon, Doctor?” Megatron asked. 

“It’s good,” Ratchet admitted. He didn’t usually eat anything this fancy, not so much because he couldn’t afford it as because he didn’t see the point. Regular cubes fueled him just fine. The delicate little flavored petals on this dish were a unique luxury, though, and their sweet, dark taste was oddly refreshing. “Tastes interesting.”

“I believe the flavoring for that particular dish is imported from off-world - Pyrovar, I think,” Megatron commented. “Pyrovarian metal has unique qualities not found on Cybertron, but it’s nearly impossible to get. They’re very possessive of it.”

Ratchet took another bite. “It’s worth the trouble,” he said. Megatron smiled. 

The trip back to Ratchet’s apartment went quickly.

“Thank you for the pleasure of your company,” Megatron told him at the door. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ratchet said. He’d turned to unlock the door, but when he looked back, Megatron was leaning in as if to kiss him. Their lips met, and it was warm and surprisingly touching.

Megatron enfolded Ratchet in his arms, and they kissed again.


End file.
